Ready the Pickles, Keane Morgan is finally here!
Meet Keane in this STANDALONE romantic comedy!
(No Prior reading required)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2a9OZJ5
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/29XGgau
4 STARS of Fun
When I first started this I struggled with Keane’s characters. Almost to the point where I was losing interest in the book. I hated the way he talked, I did not like his immaturity or his opinion of women, but I knew that there had to be more to him than just an egotistical, thug talking, stupid sounding young man..so I kept at it and I am really glad I did. Watching him grow through the pages was worth the pain of him in the beginning.
Keane is an amazing looking man, every inch of him is delicious but he is not normal at least not by normal standards, his life is outside anything us “normal” people would understand. “He’s Daffy Duck trapped inside Prince Charming’s body. Quite an entertaining combination, I must admit. He’s like watching my own private reality TV show.”
Maddy is such a great counterpart to Keane. Even with all his supposed charm and fantastic looks she is immune to BPH’s charm and is drawn to Keane’s charisma.
“Okay, this moment is definitely brought to me by the letters W, T, and F. If I understand this situation correctly, and I’m quite certain I do, I’ve just blatantly thrown myself at a self-proclaimed manwhore—in fact, I’ve literally and explicitly begged said manwhore to pretty please do me—and he’s turned me the fuck down.”
One road trip, two opposites in every way….will they walk away best friends…or will they be more?
A witty, fun read full of great “pig style BPH” advice that no man or boy should follow. Peen is so full of crap that it is a blast. This is just a ride you may have to experience for yourself.
Keane Morgan wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts, and I was pissed as hell about it. I didn’t want to drive from Seattle to L.A. with the guy any more than he wanted to drive with me, but I had no frickin’ choice in the matter–at least, not if I wanted to use his brother Dax’s coveted parking spot at UCLA. Okay, so it turned out Keane was objectively gorgeous, and, fine, pretty funny, too. But did he have to be so damned in love with himself? I mean, jeez, the cocky way he flashed those dimples was just so orchestrated. And, honestly, what kind of guy uses the phrase “baby doll” with a straight face? Oh, that’s right: the kind of guy who’s a male stripper. Yup, the cocky jerk turned out to be Seattle’s answer to Magic Mike, a stripper known as “Ball Peen Hammer”–which meant Keane Morgan was emphatically not the kind of guy I’d ever fall for. Not. At. All. No freakin’ way. Well, until Keane convinced me to fall for him, that is. Which I did. Hard.
As they exchange information, I make my way to the end of my aisle and loop into theirs, not taking my eyes off Baby Face the whole time. Shit. This dude’s hunting Maddy so hard, it’s making my blood boil. Jesus, he’s going full-throttle rifle on Maddy’s ass right now, completely foregoing his crossbow altogether. When I reach the two of them in the middle of their aisle, I shuffle past the dude and stand next to Maddy, shoulder to shoulder, and then, on a sudden impulse, put my arm around her shoulders and squeeze her tight, making her wobble in place at the unexpected jolt to her balance. “Hey, sis,” I say, squeezing her like a rag doll. “You totally fell down on your candy-acquiring duties.” “I know. I’m sorry.” She subtly wiggles out of my grasp. “Brian and I got into this hilarious argument about the best candy bar of all- time, and—” “And I’m totally right,” Brian says, cutting her off, and they both chuckle at some inside joke. “No, I’m totally right,” Maddy corrects. Brian smiles at her. “I’ll actually be down in L.A. in a month. How ’bout I call you then?” “Great.” “Nice to meet you, man,” Brian says, looking at me. He nods but doesn’t put out his hand. I nod back. Brian strolls away, buys a Snickers bar and a can of Red Bull, and leaves with a little wave to Maddy. The minute he’s out the door, Maddy takes a giant step away from me, her face etched with annoyance. “What was that?” she asks. “What?” “That weird thing you just did?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maddy puts on an exaggerated scowl, like she’s Hulk Hogan eying an opponent. “’Hey, Brian,’” she says in a low voice, clearly intending to imitate me but sounding more like Arnold Schwarzenegger imitating Maddy imitating me. “’I’m Maddy Milliken’s bodyguard and I’m going to beat you the hell up now,’” she adds. “What are you talking about?” I say, chuckling. Maddy pauses, assessing me, and finally shrugs. “Nothing. I guess I imagined it.” “Imaged what?” “Your weird… I dunno… vibe.” “Oh, well, yeah. I was worried about you.” “Worried about me? I was standing in a minimart, buying candy. Pretty low-risk activity, I’d say.” “Uh, you absolutely were not standing in a minimart, buying candy—you totally fell down on that job, dude. You were standing in a minimart, getting picked up by a douche. And second of all—” “What?” Shit. What the fuck am I doing? I’ve got to stop this shit right now. “Don’t get riled up, baby doll,” I say in my most soothing voice. “All I’m saying is you took so damned long in here, I started thinking maybe the store was getting robbed or you’d fallen into the toilet or something.” Maddy twists her mouth. “Brian didn’t seem the least bit douchey to me.” I shrug. “What gave you the impression he’s a douche?” “Just a figure of speech. So are you gonna do the job I hired you to do or not?” I motion to the candy rack. “‘Cause based on your performance thus far, you’re totally fired.” “And I wasn’t getting ‘picked up,’” Maddy says, her tone full of indignation. “Brian’s brother goes to UCLA. Can’t I talk to a helpful, nice guy without it being some sort of a sleazy pick-up?” “Sure you can. However, in this instance, you were talking to a helpful, nice guy who was picking you up so he can bone the living fuck outta ya.” “Keane.” Maddy’s cheeks burst with color. “Don’t say that. Oh my god. You’re insane. Brian was just being helpful, that’s all.” “Yeah, so he can bone the living fuck outta ya.” “Stop saying that. Please. It’s offensive and absolutely not true. This topic of conversation is officially over.”
About the Author
USA Today and internationally bestselling author Lauren Rowe lives in San Diego, California, where, in addition to writing books, she performs with her dance/party band at events all over Southern California, writes songs, takes embarrassing snapshots of her ever-patient Boston terrier, Buster, spends time with her wonderful family, and narrates audiobooks. Much to Lauren’s thrill, her books have been translated all over the world in multiple languages and hit multiple domestic and international bestseller lists. With enticing characters, enthralling situations and a general love of romantic fiction, Lauren has created a world of her own, full of wit and sensual desire.
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